


Loose End

by storm_of_sharp_things



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: All the cuddles, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Couch Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Multi, adding an ace partner to an established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: Robert Fischer tracks down Arthur and Eames as some of the team responsible for his inception. He’s looking for answers, but he gets so much more.Secret Saito 2020Prompt: Asexuality!
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception), Arthur/Eames/Robert Fischer
Comments: 28
Kudos: 46
Collections: Loose Ends, Secret Saito 2020





	Loose End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemonYellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonYellow/gifts).



> My prompt for Secret Saito 2020 was _Asexuality!_ and one of the pairings requested was Arthur/Eames/Robert. I was immediately hit with inspiration which mutated considerably during the writing of this fic! 
> 
> Also, this work would not exist without the help of my ficwives IAmANonnieMouse, deinvati, and flosculatory. As always, you have all my gratitude, and all credit for the good things here. Any typos, mistakes, crap, or other unpleasantness is solely my fault. 
> 
> Possibly unnecessary reminder: The expression of asexuality is different for everyone. Here’s how I picture it in this relationship :)

Arthur walked in the front door to find a man holding a gun on Eames. Only the fact that Eames was sprawled, mostly relaxed, in his favorite chair by the fire kept Arthur from shooting. There was a faint thread of tension there, understandable with any threat in the waking world, but he knew Eames would’ve handled any real threat before Arthur arrived to take action.

“Welcome home, darling,” Eames said easily. “Mr Fischer has found himself at a bit of a loose end and has spent some effort to track us down.” Eames rolled one shoulder slightly in a shrug.

Arthur blinked at the haggard face of Robert Fischer as he turned to scowl at Arthur.

“ _Your_ face is familiar, too,” Fischer said, hoarse and exhausted-sounding. The gun trembled in his hand.

Arthur thought Fischer looked almost unrecognizable. He was gaunt, with shadows under his eyes. The prettiness of the man that Arthur remembered had been hidden, but his wounded eyes seemed even larger. “What do you want, Mr Fischer?” he asked cautiously.

“Answers to my questions. And maybe just to see the faces of some of the people who changed my entire life with a dream.”

Arthur grimaced and sat at the end of the sofa. “What questions do you think we’ll answer at gunpoint?”

Fischer looked down at his hands and seemed startled to still be holding a gun. He set it carefully on the coffee table, but the way his fingers caressed it before he sat back made Arthur wonder how many times Fischer had contemplated it as an option. He put away his own weapon and waited, flicking a glance at Eames, who gave him a very slight nod.

“I suppose I should admit that I’m not truly sorry you interfered,” Fischer finally murmured, still staring in the direction of his hands in his lap. “I knew there was life outside of what was intended for me, but following those other possibilities was...unthinkable.” He trailed off into a contemplative silence, gaze unfocused, that Arthur was reluctant to disrupt.

It was Eames who leaned forward to ask, “Why come find us?”

Fischer looked up, all huge blue eyes in the lean face, oddly lost. “You changed everything. You uprooted me, left me wandering. If you don’t know, who else would?”

“Know what, Mr Fischer?” Arthur prompted after Fischer trailed off yet again.

“What do you do when your life...is no longer your life?”

Eames gave him a sudden grin. “Well, some of us go into dreamsharing.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “ _You_ went into dreamsharing for far more mercenary reasons.”

“You wound me, darling.”

“Occasionally. Not recently, though.”

Fischer followed the banter back and forth, an odd hunger filling his face.

Arthur considered him, thoughtful. “When was the last time you slept, Mr Fischer?”

“I... How do you trust that you’ve really woken up?”

Arthur felt the weight of the die in his pocket and, from the faint shift of Eames’ fingers, knew Eames had the urge to fondle the poker chip that served as his totem. But Fischer didn’t have a totem.

“Look,” Eames said. “Right now you just need to sleep and not worry about it. Sleep deprivation isn’t ideal for determining reality. And what have you got to lose?”

Fischer’s mouth quirked, weary amusement crossing his face. “Fair point. But I still have questions for you.”

Arthur got up from the sofa and tossed Fischer a multicolored chunky-knit throw blanket that Eames had picked up somewhere and refused to let Arthur burn. “Go to sleep, Mr Fischer. We’ll still be here when you wake.”

Fischer studied the admittedly soft and cozy blanket (Arthur would give Eames that much), his glance flicking from Arthur’s suit and tie to Eames’ worn khakis and leaf-green sweater. Whatever he determined made him smile as he curled up on his side, taking up most of the sofa. He seemed to fall asleep almost instantly.

Eames grimaced and picked up the gun on the table before coming over to pull Arthur into a kiss. “I’m glad you’re back,” he murmured against Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur returned the kiss with a greedy intention and tugged him in the direction of the bedroom. It had been a long couple of months in Curaçao, and he was more than ready to get his hands on Eames.

There was a sleeping ex-mark in his living room and he was a little uncomfortable with that, but the bedroom door locked and they both had guns. He couldn’t muster up enough reason to delay what he’d been craving for weeks.

Eames chuckled as he let himself be dragged along. “I told you Saunders would run a shitshow.”

“Pay was good enough.” Arthur pulled Eames onto the bed with him. “But I’m glad to be home.”

Eames grinned and followed him down, pinning him down with his weight, which he well knew Arthur loved.

“We going to play it that way?” Arthur asked, a little breathlessly, squirming under him.

“Who’s playing?” Eames growled in his ear. A delicious shiver worked down Arthur’s spine and he gave up on words.

Arthur woke from his doze when Eames started running his fingers through Arthur’s hair, his bottom lip caught in his teeth. He was clearly assembling a speech and Arthur huffed a laugh, stroking his fingers along Eames’ ribs where he was most ticklish. “He followed _you_ home,” Arthur said tartly.

Eames grinned, his eyes crinkling. “Are you sure?” he teased.

“Yes, or he would never have gotten through the door with a gun. Did you leave some sort of trail for him?”

Eames paused. “I’m not one to feel guilty, but I didn’t like how things were left, and I’d like to see him back on his feet, you know?”

Arthur screwed his mouth to one side. Fischer would bring complications, but he remembered how Eames had watched the man throughout the job, even beyond the needs of research, and how he’d followed the news about him afterwards. He’d led Fischer to them and let him into their home, mildly deranged as the man clearly was at the moment. He sighed. If Eames had determined to take action, there wasn’t much arguing Arthur could or would do. “We can talk to him,” he finally said.

Eames grinned. “He’ll need some consistent sleep. There’s always the spare room, yeah?”

“I said we could _talk_...we’re not actually _keeping_ him, Eames, he’s not a puppy...”

“Thank god, d’you think either of us knows how to housetrain anything?”

Fischer didn’t wake up the next morning until the second pot of coffee was brewing. Arthur had tried to save him some bacon from their breakfast, but Eames had eaten it when Arthur had his back turned.

“What?” he’d said innocently. “We don’t even know if he likes bacon. And a right waste it would’ve been if he didn’t.”

Arthur had scowled at him, but he’d missed Eames too much to maintain any irritation right now and Eames knew it very well. He’d winked at Arthur and gone to do the dishes, and damn if he didn’t also know all the hidden keys to Arthur’s heart.

Thus, when Fischer peered shyly into the kitchen, hair tousled, hideous knit blanket still wrapped around him, Arthur was sipping fresh coffee and feeling very charitable. He pushed a chair away from the table with his foot and nodded to it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be any trouble,” Fischer started as he dropped into the seat.

“You haven’t been much trouble yet, Mr Fischer.”

Fischer winced. “Er, good.”

Eames put a mug of coffee down in front of him and Arthur watched Fischer’s eyes light up. Eames paused and then patted Fischer’s shoulder lightly, sliding his hand down Fischer’s back for a very brief and gentle rub, and then took his own seat.

Fischer was staring at Eames like a startled deer, but Eames just nodded with a faint smile and took a sip of his own coffee. Arthur wondered what Eames knew or had observed, but put it aside for later. He took in Fischer’s clear exhaustion, the faint tremor in the hands that lifted the mug.

“You need more sleep, Mr Fischer,” he said quietly.

The man gave him a faint smile. “I had more sleep last night than I’ve had in a week, for which I thank you.”

“Do you have any plans?” Eames asked.

Fischer looked down at his hands. “Not...at the moment.”

“Then you should stay for a bit,” Eames said, leaning forward persuasively. “Catch up on sleep, let yourself settle.”

Fischer stared at him, then at Arthur, who inclined his head slightly in agreement. “Why?”

Eames grimaced. “Seems the least we could do, you know? Offer you a refuge while you sort things out.”

“There’s a spare room,” Arthur offered. “You needn’t sleep on the sofa.”

Fischer huddled into the knit blanket, looking torn. “You, er, you two are...I’d be in the way, surely.”

Eames barked a laugh. “Yeah, it’ll be a terrible imposition just having sex in bed.”

Arthur sighed and held the bridge of his nose. “Stay,” he said. “But putting up with Eames is an inescapable cost, so weigh your decision carefully.”

Fischer smiled despite himself as Eames made a dramatic gesture of betrayal. “It’s worth a try.”

A few weeks into Robert’s stay, it was becoming clear that getting more sleep wasn’t going to be the remedy they’d hoped for him. He was still waking in a state of confusion, staring around frantically until he remembered where he was, and the haunted look he’d arrived with hovered for hours afterward.

He slept better if he was near one of them and so, half the time, he napped in the living room while they were there rather than sleep alone in the spare bedroom.

So when Arthur walked in the front door after a quick research assignment, it was no surprise to find Robert, yet again, curled asleep on the sofa, his head on Eames’ thigh, while Eames watched him and stroked a hand through his tousled hair. Arthur found himself wearing a fond quirk of a smile that had previously been reserved for Eames alone.

“He has a bed to sleep in,” Arthur teased quietly. He leaned over the back of the sofa to study Robert’s sleeping face. Despite his continued difficulties, the shadows under his eyes were mostly gone and his mouth was relaxed into a faint smile.

“You know he sleeps better like this.” Eames brushed the hair back from Robert’s forehead gently and let his hand wander to cup the back of Robert’s neck, his fingers caressing along Robert’s hairline.

Arthur snorted. “Who knew you’d be such a secret marshmallow?”

Eames grinned at him and reached up to brush his thumb along Arthur’s mouth. “Well, that’s not what _you_ inspire, darling.”

Arthur took Eames’ thumb in his teeth, his tongue moving against it suggestively. Eames growled under his breath, his eyes darkening.

“If you move, he’ll wake up,” Arthur warned with a wicked grin. He leaned close to whisper in Eames’ ear, something he knew drove him crazy. “So you’re at my mercy right now, aren’t you?”

“You _have_ no mercy.”

Robert’s head shifted in his lap and Eames glanced down as he rubbed lightly at Robert’s back.

Arthur studied them, taking in the concerned way Eames cosseted Robert. “He’s not making any further improvement, is he?”

Eames sighed. “He still struggles with accepting that he’s awake.” At Arthur’s wince, he reached up to pull him into a gentle kiss. “Hey, we did the best we could during that nightmare of a job. And we all came out of it.”

“Mostly.” Arthur frowned down at Robert. When he’d first decided to offer help, he’d been mainly motivated by a faint and unaccustomed sense of guilt. But Robert had become part of the household before Arthur had realized, had carved out a space for himself that fit with entirely unexpected ease inside their relationship. Robert had become a familiar part of home, a welcoming smile turned in Arthur’s direction. He tried to stay out of the way as much as possible, and he did more than his fair share of chores (something Arthur suspected Eames of encouraging).

He was still a little tentative in his physical approaches to Arthur, although it wasn’t at all unusual to find Eames lounging with an arm around Robert’s shoulders while they watched some inexplicable British or Australian sport, or their legs tangled together as they sat on opposite ends of the sofa, or Robert leaning on the counter next to Eames while he cooked. But Arthur had come to expect, even to anticipate, the little touches, the tentative hugs, the way Robert would gravitate toward him if he were sitting in the room with him. And Eames was much more generous with his responses, Arthur admitted, but then adding anyone to his life was a big step for Arthur. “All right, I don’t see any option but the PASIV, do you?”

Eames shook his head. “Go get it.”

When Arthur came back with the briefcase, Robert was sitting up, running a hand through his hair while Eames rubbed at his back. He brightened when he saw Arthur and got to his feet, reaching out impulsively and then checking himself, tucking his hands into his pockets and offering a shy smile. Arthur acted on impulse himself, and pulled Robert into a gentle hug.

Robert’s breath caught in his throat and then he held on, burying his face in Arthur’s shoulder. “Glad you’re back,” he murmured.

“You may not be for long,” Arthur said dryly. “We want to take you under with us.”

Robert went still and then sighed. “I really must remember you’re the sort who pulls bandages off in one fast rip.”

Eames, who’d been sipping tea, choked and spluttered.

“I know you’re apprehensive, and that’s justified, given your history with it,” Arthur said. “But dreamsharing is a very different thing when you’re consciously entering a dream.”

Robert stared at him for a long moment and then nodded.

Arthur tried not to be too pleased at the trust shown, and gave Robert a little push toward the sofa. “Then sit down and get comfortable.”

“What, now?” It was practically a squawk and Eames looked away, valiantly hiding a smile.

“Doesn’t give you any time to worry about it. How are you with needles?” Arthur asked, deftly rolling back Robert’s sleeve.

“Er, fine? Ouch!”

Eames reached over to take Robert’s hand as Arthur got all three of them hooked up. “We’re going to be right there with you, Robbie. Arthur, your dream.”

Arthur nodded and Eames laid on his side on the broad sofa, pulling Robert back against him and wrapping a protective arm around him.

Arthur smiled as he sat on the floor, laying one hand over Robert’s ankle and activating the PASIV with the other. He wondered briefly if he _should_ be jealous of the easy way Eames touched Robert. A dreamsharer got used to carefully examining their emotions or they didn’t last long, and a point man needed to be doubly careful. There were already enough incalculable complications to any job.

He opened his eyes on the sailboat, rocking gently on the calm nighttime sea, and smiled at Robert’s delighted gasp. The huge moon left a silvery path across the water, and the air was cool but not cold. Bioluminescent creatures swam in slow graceful patterns under the boat, soothing and hypnotic. Overhead, the Milky Way curved brilliantly like a vast bridge of prismatic stars.

“So,” Arthur said, holding out a hand to Robert. “Let us tell you about the dreamscape...”

They watched Robert wake, his eyes focusing immediately and seeking them out. There was no panic or disorientation in them, and a happy grin spread across his face.

“That was _amazing!_ When can we do it again?”

Eames laughed ruefully. “He would be a natural, wouldn't he?”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, considering what options might exist in dreamshare for someone like Robert Fischer.

Robert was practicing in a dream again, curled asleep in Eames’ lap. Eames was reading, but his hand was moving in a slow and steady pattern across Robert’s back and Arthur huffed a laugh. “Are you anchoring him or distracting him?”

Eames grinned. “Well, as always, that depends, doesn’t it? Come give us a kiss, love, I can’t exactly get up.”

“Not your usual problem when someone’s head is in your lap.”

Eames tossed his book at Arthur, who caught it out of the air neatly. He set it on a table, well out of Eames’ reach, and went over to kiss him. Eames immediately wound his fingers in Arthur’s hair and tugged as retaliation while he molested Arthur’s mouth.

“Later, darling, but not much later,” he finally whispered against Arthur’s lips.

His hand was still steadily moving on Robert’s sleeping back and Arthur leaned on the back of the sofa and watched the slow pattern. He was actually just a little envious of the back rub. He knew how incredibly comforting it was to have Eames’ hand, warm and strong, stroking slow circles across the span of his shoulder blades. He prodded at the envy thoughtfully and decided it was mostly randiness. Which reminded him– “He’s not interested in sex with either of us.”

Eames smiled at him. “No, he’s not. Is that a problem for you, love?”

Arthur contemplated that, searching himself for any hesitation but not finding any. He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Robert’s ear. “I’d say we should talk about it.”

Eames hmm’d. “Go put the kettle on, love.”

Arthur snorted at Eames’ quintessential British reaction to any impending discussion and went to the kitchen.

Arthur was reaching into a cupboard for some mugs when Eames crowded close behind him, his hands sliding up Arthur’s sides. “I can tell you’re not jealous, but just to be clear, it’s you I want to fuck into next week,” Eames growled, delicately worrying the edge of Arthur’s ear with his teeth. He pressed Arthur against the counter, just a little harder than necessary, and Arthur savored the frisson of arousal shivering up his spine. He turned around into Eames’ kiss, slowly rubbing their hips together. He loved the tease of friction between them, even with clothing in the way.

Robert was leaning in the doorway when they broke for air and, in a moment of impulse, Arthur held out his hand.

“Oh, no, I’m not, I mean, I don’t...” Robert approached reluctantly when Arthur waggled his fingers.

“Robert. We know. That’s not what we need to discuss. In case I haven’t made it clear enough...”

Eames snorted. “Because you’re a master of communication...ouch!”

“...we want you here.” He pulled Robert into their shared embrace.

Robert’s hold tightened and he burrowed his face into Arthur’s neck. Eames wrapped around him from behind, reaching past to rub at the back of Arthur’s neck, and Robert melted against them.

“Our poor touch-starved Robbie,” Eames murmured. “All those years dreading getting married, having to ‘do your duty’, ‘continue your line’.”

“Your father was an asshole,” Arthur agreed. Robert made a tiny protesting noise and Arthur scoffed. “There’s no arguing with facts.”

“Shhh,” Eames soothed. “He didn’t understand you at all, but there’s nothing wrong with _you_ , you know.”

Robert lifted his head to stare at Eames, something between fear and hope in his eyes.

“Not everything’s about sex,” Eames said with a wry smile. “A relationship can be just holding someone. It doesn’t have to lead to anything else, especially if it’s not welcome.”

Robert exhaled hard. “But I don’t have anything else to offer...”

“Stop that,” Arthur ordered, sharp and commanding. “That’s not true or you wouldn’t still be here.”

Eames coughed a laugh. “What our dangerous mate means to say is we like you and want to keep you.”

“He’s still not a puppy, Eames.”

Robert was surprised into an undignified snort.

“We’re not asking you to join us for sex,” Arthur added. “That’s just one part of our relationship and there’s plenty of room for you in everything else. We’re flexible.”

“Arthur’s _very_ flexible,” Eames leered.

Robert reached out and nudged the knife rack a little closer to Arthur’s hand.

Arthur smirked. “Together, we _might_ stand a chance of keeping him in check.”

Eames pulled Arthur close for a sweet lingering kiss, hand firm on the back of his neck. He kept Robert tucked against them, his head laid on Eames’ shoulder in contentment.

“Am I always going to find you two cuddled on the sofa when I come home?” Arthur teased as he walked in.

He leaned to brush a kiss over Robert’s temple then shifted to Eames’ mouth, kissing him with an increasing urgency.

Eames laughed a little breathlessly after. “That kind of day, was it?”

Robert snorted. “What other kinds of days does he have? Go burn some of that off, you two. I’ll hold down the couch in the meantime.” He picked up his tablet.

“Come to bed after?” Eames looked at him intently.

“Of course. After you finish with your,” he waved his hand disdainfully, “weird biological urges. And clean up.” He grinned at the two of them and Arthur marveled at the difference in him. He smiled easily and there were no shadows across his face. His blue eyes were bright as he leaned his cheek into Arthur’s hand eagerly.

Eames nuzzled a kiss behind Robert’s ear and slid himself off the sofa. “We won’t sleep without you,” he warned.

“I should think not,” Robert said, clearly pleased despite his dismissive gesture.

“And this evening, more practice with the PASIV.” Arthur hardly needed the firm tone; Robert had taken to dreamsharing with delight, and with an unexpected skill that had Arthur already scheduling him on future jobs.

Robert grinned at him. “Not a problem, ’petal’.”

Arthur blinked and then reached for a knife. “Eames!”

**Author's Note:**

> The inimitable [IAmANonnieMouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse) made a Fischer POV of this! I have the best ficwives EVER!
> 
> Go read [Loose End (A Calling Home Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494093)!


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